


Rocks are Dumb and So Are Lizard People

by Nehszriah



Series: The Thick of UNIT [12]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Benton is hypercompetent even in old age, F/M, Gen, Malcolm Tucker working at UNIT, Prompt Fic, Rated for swearing, The Thick Of Unit, confused American OC, geologic technobabble, nothing about Silurians is consistent so idc, veiled author tracts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: A visitor from Mainframe Great Lakes comes to the UK for some help, and end up with Benton and Malcolm instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone on my writing blog, knowing full-well where I'm from, asked for the Mainframe UK characters dealing with a Midwestern American. The result is below, taking place between the ninth and tenth chapters of the main story, with some worldbuilding notes at the end.

Once upon a time in Glasgow, when hair was feathered and punk was beginning to sink its teeth into urban youth subculture, Wee Malcolm had sat a class on geology. It was the most boring, inane, useless thing that he could have possibly comprehended—how the fuck was he going to use _geology_ , of all subjects? Rocks were fucking old, and weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so why would he need to worry? He ended up spending half the time dying to sneak out for a fag and the other half pretending like he cared what the wispy, thin-voiced, Hobbit of a man was attempting to teach him and the rest of his mates. There was too much kohl in the room, too many earrings, too much thinking about music and being angry and art and so many other things that he knew then as a teenager that it would be a miracle anything ever sunk in.

Flash-forward to over thirty years later and it was although Grey Malcolm was having déjà vu—the class was now him, Kate, the Scarfies, and the military higher-ups at Mainframe UK, but it was still a topic that was driving him to insanity via boredom.

“Are you listening, Mister Tucker, sir?” the man near the whiteboard asked. He was tall, American, and although he was built like he could smash through scrum without even blinking, he had the stance of someone who did not want to make waves. “I can explain it again, if you’d like—this isn’t everyone’s best subject.”

“You were talking about glaciers and fucking lakes with names I can’t pronounce and it was bringing me back to some dark days.”

“Well, as I was saying: Devensian and Midlandian Glaciation, which correlates with Wisconsinan where I’m from, had carved out dozens of Silurian strongholds during the last glacial period,” the man continued. “The bone fragments we encountered have been identified as Silurians thanks to genetic testing; being cold-blooded, they were unable to survive the trek down to warmer climates, which subsequently caused their remains to be engulfed both by ice as it was encroaching and glacial runoff during retreat, depending on when and how the Silurians were disturbed—”

“Get to the fucking _point_ , lad,” Malcolm half-groaned.

“My **_point_** , _sir_ , is not only do we have glacial rebound happening within the jurisdictions of both the UK and Great Lakes mainframes, but that, combined with pre-glacial habitats and hibernation areas for the Silurians, means that one of these days, sooner rather than later, we’re going to have a global crisis on our hands when an entire sentient species previously unknown to the public _goes public_ with various awakenings,” the visitor replied, a sharpness to his voice. “If you’ve been having encounters for decades, then it’s only a matter of time for everyone else. Glacial rebound also means that other areas are sinking, which combined with modern polar cap melt and temperature-related expansion of the oceans means that there will be chaos no matter if it’s a Silurian base exposed in the bedrock or green, scaly, humanoid corpses washed upon the shore because their pods were unexpectedly flooded.”

“You paint a graphic picture, Lieutenant Koegel, though there is little we can do for the time being,” Group Captain Arwell said. The RAF man shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “What do the other effected Mainframes in North America say about this, or Geneva?”

“Getting anything more than a pat on the head out of Geneva is like pulling teeth because they generally dislike American politics enough to take the stance of letting us sort it all out,” Koegel said sourly. “Most of us can’t blame them, but it leaves us in a bind when it comes to finding help; Columbia and Pacifica don’t generally care for things that look like they won’t directly impact certain population centers and Ed-Cal frankly has enough on their plate ever since the quick founding and decommissioning of the Salish Mainframe two years ago.”

“Have you tried asking the mainframe in Texas for help?” Captain Blythe wondered. The man almost snorted in laughter.

“We have a rough time keeping people from _transferring_ to the Plano Mainframe—most leave while not caring what happens to us,” he said. “It’s bad enough we’re scattered all over the place, but our staffing numbers suffer because of recent recession-related migration out of certain outpost areas. Our Detroit-Selfridge base is fine for the time being, but Alpena, K-Zoo, Marquette... they’re all operating at less than optimal numbers, and that’s just in _Michigan_ …”

“Off the soapbox, soldier—what do you want from us?” Kate ordered.

“Your advice and assistance, Brigadier-Director, ma’am,” he replied. “Cheboygan, a small city in my mainframe’s jurisdiction, has recently seen an influx in tectonic movement not far below the city’s surface. We’ve been monitoring the place, and we’ve been picking up sound waves that correlate to a known Silurian stronghold just south of Kalamazoo. While the latter might cause an earthquake within a few years, the former might result in small-scale encounters that are liable to turn viral.”

“Some tourists stumbled into a horror film project—it’s not that difficult,” Malcolm shrugged.

“That might work for something in Pacifica or Columbia’s jurisdictions, but not mine,” Koegel frowned. “Sometimes film shoots occur in and around the areas, but locals would know, and if they catch wind of such an excuse they’d call us on it.”

“I’m a practiced hand at explaining away ‘ _military exercises_ ’, and have always fancied a trip to America,” Benton said. There was a grin on his lips that was almost demanding that he go.

“The closest active to semi-active military bases to the places of interest are Camp Grayling, Selfridge ANG, CFBs Borden, Trenton, and North Bay, and NAVSTA Great Lakes, and all those are _still_ too far. It’s just off the top of my head, so there could be something _closer_ to one, but it’s unlikely.”

“Dad is rolling over in his grave,” Kate muttered in Malcolm’s direction, quiet enough so that only he could hear.

“He’s getting there, anyhow,” he whispered back. He then cleared his throat before speaking normally. “So you need help in identifying and communicating with the Silurians, yeah?”

“I hear you have a couple in your employ, as well as knowledge of and contact with a community around the Sahel,” Koegel mentioned. “Whomever you have to spare, lizard or human, I can make use of them.”

“Almost all my staff is very busy at the moment, so I have to say… Benton and Tucker are your best bets.”

“Whoa, whoa, fucking—me?!” Malcolm gasped. “Kate, I…” He leaned in a smidge closer and clenched his teeth. “… _love_ …”

“They are both proficient in basic Silurian, and not only does Benton have experience in dealing with them from a military perspective, Tucker will be able to handle most everything else, including how to advise any local news media on how to report things, if it comes to that.” Kate’s stare never turned away from Koegel, making her point very firm. “Any questions?”

“No ma’am; thank you for your cooperation and assistance, ma’am,” the visitor said.

“Good—everyone is dismissed.”

Most of those in attendance packed up and left without much else prodding, as they felt there were other places that they would rather be than in the meeting, though Kate remained seated to check with her mobile, while Malcolm only pretended to leave and hung behind so that they were the only two in the room. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he shuffled in place, unsure of how to broach the subject.

“We had a date,” he finally said. “We’ve been planning it for a while.”

“I know,” she replied. “We can reschedule.”

“Again? We already pushed it back three weeks due to that fucking Nimon prick crashing his ship in the middle of the Cairngorms.”

“Soon as you and Benton return, I promise.” Kate stood and approached her beau, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. He was half-scowling, his brow worried and mouth downturned. “Could be worse—you could take Ahmed along instead of Benton.”

“I’m not taking that sour-faced, over-enthusiastically military, dildo of a Boy Scout _anywhere_ ,” he groused. Kate laughed at that, patting his front bits affectionately.

“You could be taking _me_ along, and then we’d never get to focus on the mission at-hand.”

“To be honest, love: I’d rather not, _especially_ with you.”

“Then the sooner you leave, the sooner we can get back to not concentrating,” she said. She then left the room, turning Malcolm into the sole occupant.

Fuck.

* * *

Heathrow to somewhere on the outskirts of Detroit, then a quick pond-hopper ride later, and Malcolm found himself getting out of a nondescript car in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere. The car ride had felt like it took ages, with too few stops and not enough civilization around to make it seem worth his time. Benton was having fun, however, taking snapshots with his mobile (after individual tutorials from Malcolm _and_ Koegel both) and being a general tourist in the Land of the Large and the Home of Shit Candy Bars.

“So where are we, again?” Malcolm asked. He felt uncomfortable being on-duty while wearing a fleece jumper and thermal trousers, but with the wind that was attempting to freeze him to death, anything even close to a suit would have actually killed him at this rate.

“A few miles out from Cheboygan, roughly where we’ve triangulated the tectonic disturbances,” Koegel said. He was not wearing anything extra other than a light jacket, which his Scots acquaintance was jealous of.

“Anyone report any earthquakes? I didn’t think this was the area for it.”

“It’s not, and they haven’t—the disturbance was shallow and the only house close enough to feel it is a summer cottage that was empty at the time.”

“Lucky them,” Malcolm muttered. The air around him was fresh and brisk, yeah, but he could feel the sand pretending to be dirt under his shoes; he was going to be finding the shit in his socks for weeks. “Where is it in relation to the suspected Silurian base?”

“It’s a property about a mile that way, right on Lake Huron,” Koegel said, pointing roughly to the northeast. “Right now, we’re still zoned to Cheboygan, but we’re also far enough away to where no one should disturb our search.”

Malcolm glanced around the woods, the completely useless sound of a manual camera shutter coming from Benton’s mobile behind him. “What do we need to look for?”

“Signs of non-human life,” Koegel shrugged.

“I see some randy squirrels and hear a bunch o’ fucking birds—those count?”

“No, sir,” Koegel said almost automatically.

“Then let’s get cracking so we can go back into whateverthefuck town it is that was advertising some pasties—gotta see if they’re anything like the shit we get back home.”

“I’m sure they aren’t,” Benton chimed in. “Got to go to Cornwall for a good pasty.”

“Great—the tourists want meat pies,” Koegel muttered under his breath. “Maybe some B.C. Pizza will shut them up…”

“Hey, what’d you say? My smartass detector’s flipping its fucking shit.”

“Just talking to myself, Mister Tucker, sir,” the American replied. He climbed up on a log that had fallen and wedged itself in the branches of another, looking further into the woods via the vantage point. “If there’s anything in here, it’s using the tree cover well.”

“Uh… I don’t think it’s the wood we need to be concerned with,” Benton said. He was standing completely still, to the point where he still had his arms in the air to hold up his mobile. Malcolm and Koegel glanced in the direction of the old man to see that he was standing only a couple meters away from a Silurian.

Well, it nominally looked like a Silurian to the media man, but it wasn’t like any of the ones he’d seen in the past. Bipedal and scaly, yeah, but looking more like the Creature from the Bloody Lagoon than Saakra down in Mainframe UK’s R&D department. Shit… if only she were with them… they only expected a sighting at best, a corpse at worse, not a fucking _encounter_.

“Oh, ah, yeah, fuck, «Who are you?»” Malcolm sputtered, fumbling over his hasty, shitty Silurian he was certain was half-swearing and euphemizing anyhow. «What tribe are you from?»

«How do mere apes know advanced language?!» the Silurian asked in amazement. Malcolm felt foolish for not being able to translate as quickly as Benton, who had lowered his arms and taken over the conversation.

«We were taught, though my grey companion only recently,» he explained. «The young one does not know, and asked our help. What we do know is that it has been a long time for you and your tribe…» Koegel hopped down off the fallen log in order to observe closer, only for the Silurian to jab its weapon towards him and hiss.

«We are unarmed!» Malcolm shouted, stepping between Koegel and the Silurian. «Stop that!»

«Apes turn anything into weapons—that much I’m sure has stayed the same.»

“What’s going on…?” Koegel asked. The Silurian jabbed at him again and he stuck his hands in the air.

“We’re just trying to stay alive at this point,” Malcolm growled.

«This is true, but we are also not the apes of the past; humans stepped in when your people went underground, and now we want to make sure no one is harmed because of it,» Benton told the Silurian. «An associate of mine, Saakra, told me once that the Silurians of these lands were a proud, fierce people. Is that correct?»

«This was where we swam and stood with honor,» the Silurian stated. «Now apes are running about uncontrolled and the very waterfall the youth of my cluster would dive off of to prove their worth is well under the water—not even rapids!»

«You came out of hibernation before this?» Benton marveled. He turned towards the younger men with wide eyes. “They came out of hibernation before this!”

«For a few generations, but it still proved too cold for our kind, so we returned; I am but a scout.»

«You might want to reconsider, as this is not a good period for humankind,» Malcolm said. «Many cannot handle being different from each other—Silurians all resurfacing would cause war.»

«Then let me meet your best warrior in a battle to the death.»

«Wouldn’t you rather have your best scientists meet ours in an exchange of knowledge?» Benton suggested. «We have studied the planet while you slept, and our differing views can help both species… but only when we are ready.»

The Silurian stood there, seemingly contemplating Benton’s words, staring him down with the utmost seriousness. It then shook slightly, opening an until-then-unseen eye on its forehead that emitted a noise so high-pitched that only Koegel could hear, as his hearing was the most intact of the humans.

«You have been responsible for the destruction of other clusters before… yet I believe you,» it decided. «I will report back that apes are too much hassle for their worth, and that we shall remain in hibernation for the time being, our maintenance workers confining themselves to this new lake. If you, a white-haired old man whom has done much in life, can understand the error of your past ways, then there is hope for the remaining apes.»

«I thank you,» Benton said, bowing his head respectfully. «What is your name, so that I may tell my Silurian associate of your decision and discretion?»

«Kordak Haaqr of the Sweet Inland Seas.»

«Thank you, Kordak Haaqr. Please, allow me to travel with you to the water’s edge.» The Silurian nodded and turned to walk away, Benton following.

“Wait, what just happened?” Koegel wondered. “What was that noise?”

“That third eye’s the source of the fucker’s psychic abilities,” Malcolm explained. “Some strains developed them, some didn’t. For them it’s as inane a difference as hair texture or dick length is for us. Wasn’t that in the information we gave you?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was so exhausted from jetlag on the way back that I barely did anything other than sleep,” Koegel frowned.

“Yeah… you do look like you woke up after getting knocked out attempting to shag a badger.”

“…what does that even _mean_?”

“I was a fucking devil in Paul Smith in my government days, that’s what,” Malcolm said. They walked down the path that Benton and the Silurian took, arriving at the shoreline in time to watch the old man teach the lizard how to perform a handshake.

“You being a higher up in a mainframe is a crazy enough thought, but an entire country is baffling,” Koegel admitted. When the Silurian was completely submerged in the lake water, he waved Benton over. “What did you say to it?”

“Trade secret, lieutenant,” Benton said smugly. “Now how’s about we get some of those pasties and see how terrible they are?”

* * *

Four days later, after briefings at Mainframe Great Lakes’ main branches and a well-needed nap on the plane home, Malcolm found himself at his lady’s mercy as they tumbled into bed after an evening of flirting over a plate of pasta and pretending that life at work wasn’t complete and utter shit. With Lex bogged down with her aide work at school and therefore taking refuge in her cubicle, Malcolm didn’t even bother to control himself as he loudly waxed vulgar while Kate fucked him into his mattress.

He was so loud, in fact, that neither he nor Kate noticed the couple of beeps coming from the mobile that sat in his discarded trouser pocket, signaling emails coming in at an alarming rate. They were all from Koegel, and they were all supposedly rather urgent—Kordak Haaqr of the Sweet Inland Seas lied.

Eh; it wasn’t their problem anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> My idea for UNIT as a global entity is that there are mainframes dotted all over the world in strategic places, whether it involves a population center or not, as sort of further divisions of basic geographic/geopolitical regions. Mainframe UK is a bit of an oddball covering as small a space as it does without the massive mainframe-wide population that would normally entail, but that ends up being a result of the weird stuff that follows the Doctor requiring UK to be a bit more amped up than being a simple branch to another mainframe. Meanwhile, the North American countries of Canada, the United States, and Mexico would have seven between them (Edmonton-Calgary (Canadian Plains), Great Lakes, Columbia (Atlantic coast), Pacifica (Pacific coast), Plano (Texas), Jalisco-Veracruz (either side of Mexico City), and Borinquen (Puerto Rico)), with each having varying subdivisions in order to accommodate their vast jurisdictions that often cross international borders (North America is more than the Big Three, but you get the idea). Mainframe UK, however, just has the United Kingdom and her waters to deal with, for the most part, with Ireland demanding to be administratively a hub of Mainframe Norden (the Nordic countries) after restructuring in the 1980/1990s, with the Commonwealth and any overseas protectorates zoned to the local mainframes.
> 
> Some pronunciation notes: Koegel rhymes with roe-gul, Cheboygan is shuh-boi-gn, and pasty is pass-tee (pass-tees in plural). Also of note is that B.C. Pizza’s mascot, last time I checked, was a British-style constable despite being a northern(ish) Michigan institution.


End file.
